


Everything Under the Sun

by cacophonous_noise



Category: Lost in Space (2018), Lost in Space (TV 2018)
Genre: Episode 07: Pressurized, F/M, Multiple Orgasms, alternate sterile universe (not the shooting blanks kind the clean kind), i know they're filthy but maureen definitely packed some hand sanitizer okay, seriously they won't shut up, sometimes you must write the porn you want to read in this world, speaking during sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-29
Updated: 2018-04-29
Packaged: 2019-04-29 11:31:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,016
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14471772
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cacophonous_noise/pseuds/cacophonous_noise
Summary: And like when they were trapped in the Chariot, he tells her a love story. His breath ghosts over her skin. Over her hip bones that he nips in between sentences. On her center when he speaks to tease her in between licking stripes into her most sensitive skin. He tells her snippets of the past, painting memories like photographs into her body. ‘Remember whens’ that play out in three dimensions around them.Maybe she's still helium-high. Maybe it's just John.//The porny tag for Episode 07 we all deserved.





	Everything Under the Sun

> **Helium** from Greek _hēlios_ ‘sun,’ because its existence was inferred from an emission line in the spectrum of the sun.

* * *

The adrenaline still thrums through her veins. Her pulse is hot, their fading laughter dizzying.

John reaches for her hand.

Maureen turns to face him and time slows. Under this alien sun, his eyes are an unnatural shade of green.

She feels like a teenager again. Feels exactly how she did before he’d ever touched her—the longing and the want that she hasn’t felt since the first time she took him home.

The last time he kissed her, he was saying goodbye. He was saying I’m sorry. I can’t believe we’ve wasted so much time.

He was going to die for her.

John bites his lower lip and glances down at hers. Her heart pounds in her throat. She smiles, soft and slow, permission granted. When he leans in, everything comes alive in speeding Technicolor. Their first kiss is electric, hungry, like water to their starving lips.

John drags her into him, all his muscle and warmth gathering her up. The air around them cools the sweat stuck to her skin, raising goosebumps down her arms that he smoothes away with the flat of his palms, leaving shivers in his wake. He’s the only sensation she feels. More than the smell of the tar pit or the sound of her pulse or that same tar flaking off her skin everywhere he touches her.

He’s the reason she’s alive.

“I meant I what I said in there.” He speaks into her neck, the warm, living breath of him. His voice is back to normal, all his deep, grumbling mirth going serious as he looks at her. “You did what any mother would want to do. But you’re the only one I know who’d actually have gone through with it.”

Maureen might be the reason they are trapped on this dying planet. But she’s also the reason he’s still alive.

She stills his relentless pace with a hand on his chest and slides them up under his shirt, driving along the solid mass of him, all flesh and muscle and living heat. She can feel his heart beat beneath her palms. And for once, it’s not because they’re in danger. She steers him back into the grass so she can crawl safely into his lap.

They are each the reason the other is alive.

“It is incredible that we’re here,” he says, like he can read her thoughts. “I love you. I admire you.” He kisses each full stop into her skin. “I love you. I want you.”

He’s about to babble. Maureen rolls his nipple between her fingers. His words cut off with an outraged gasp. She pins him still with the steel in her eyes. “Don’t you ever offer your life for mine again.”

His answering smile is feral. Scorching. “I will. I’d do it every time,” he vows, slipping his fingers beneath her waistband. He rolls her leggings down and off of her, and uses what’s left of the clean fabric to wipe his hands before tossing them aside. “Because you deserve so much more than this,” John says, his fingers inside of her now. He wants to worship her. She can feel it in the way he’s teasing her so slowly. Scissoring his fingers, his thumb only glancing at her clit.

He knows all of her edges and her triggers. He knows what’ll bring her close. Where to touch her to have her begging. But he’s avoiding them all, sliding along the knife’s edge between ecstasy and desperation like this is the reason he was put on this planet, to look at her with that gleam in his turquoise eyes. His pupils are blown, but the irises burn bright under the wicked, foreign sun that threatens their lives even after all of this.

He’s right. She does want more. Maureen wants to press her naked chest to his. She wants him to kiss her so deep she’ll feel it for days. She wants to impale herself on his cock, the only pedestal she ever wants to be put on.

“John, if you don’t fuck me now,” she threatens, but the rest is lost in her throat because his mouth is on hers again. She rolls them so she can climb on top of him, knees digging into the grasses and weeds on either side of him. Maureen rips his shirt from his body as he scrabbles at hers with his other hand. She grinds herself onto his fingers, hovering over the hot press of his cock.

Then she slides her hands under his waistband, pulling at the stupid spacepant compression leggings they insist upon wearing even though gets closer to 35 degrees centigrade on the hellscape planet with every passing day. She gets them over his hipbones, wondering why he wants to cover himself with so many layers. Maureen wasn’t wearing anything beneath hers. John had moaned when he found out. But she’s torn. It’s been years and she wants to watch him parade around in a tiny pair of boxer briefs, stacked muscle and those gorgeous thighs, as much as she wants to be one layer closer to unwrapping him. She gets them down, and his cock springs free. And there’s plenty of time for a runway tease later, she decides, and takes him in her mouth.

She hears him exhale past a smile. His now free hands tangle in her hair and clamp an iron grip into her shoulder. He’s warm. He smells like Earth and tastes like home.

"Maureen," he keens. "I thought you wanted more than this."

She hollows her cheeks, pressing her tongue harder against the underside of his cock, sucking tight before she pops off him.

"Lube," she says, tossing her hair over a shoulder. "It's been a decade."

He chuckles, the sound of it so much sweeter now that it’s not tinged with fear. "It has not."

"I want it to be good."

"Baby," he says, the endearment dropping like a sigh. He grins and shifts her higher on his thigh. "You're already soaked." And he's right. She can feel the spot she leaves on him when the air slides between their bodies. He drags his fingers back down her cunt and runs his other palm across her collarbones, flushed pink with desire.

Then he takes her apart by degrees she would calculate if she had any headspace to spare for the math. But not with him beneath her, shoulders awash with freckles only growing darker under the oppressive sun. In this moment he is the only thing that matters. Because being with him again is like travelling through time.

When she presses her cheek to his. When she bites his neck. When the noises he makes play like a sound track to another life, her life before. It brings her back to every time they've already done this. It gives him eight hands to touch her with because he's everywhere. Fingers inside of her and dragging through her hair. Lips on hers, tongue on her breasts, her clavicle, teeth on her back, whispers in her ear.

His thumb traces insistent circles on her clit. Maureen collapses into his chest the first time he makes her come. The orgasm rips through her and as it crests, she has a fleeting thought about how remarkable they are. They aren't the first humans in space, but how lucky are they? How smart and capable, how truly awesome it is that they are even here at all. That they are alive.

John lays her down in the grass when the waves ebb, hovering over her midsection with a self-satisfied smirk across his mouth. His eyes shine. His skin is flushed enough almost to match his hair. He looks like he's solved a puzzle. He looks like he isn't done.

While she catches her breath, he busies his mouth between her legs. She throws her head back. Her breath is impossibly fast, desperately overwhelming. She hasn’t been this relaxed since the alarms sounded on the Resolute.

John moans in time with the beat of her heart. She digs her heels into the ground in an effort to get closer to his punishing mouth. The burn of his stubble alternates with the flat of his tongue and she wants pressure. All of it. More of it.  

When Maureen realizes she’s not getting her breath back, she removes her arm from where she’s flung it over her eyes. She looks at him through her lashes, looking calmer than she feels, she’s sure. Because she is pressed urgently up against his face, fucking herself onto him. It’s not enough. "I thought I told you ages ago to fuck me properly."

He peeks up at her from between her thighs. "Oh like this isn't just as good," he says. His chin is wet. It catches, shining in the sunlight and she feels an answering pulse down her spine like now that they've started again, she wants to mark him everywhere. How pretty a hickey will look tucked alongside all his freckles.

"Or we could get to the good stuff before we're both too spent to enjoy it," Maureen says, lifting herself onto her elbows. Snark colors her tone an acid green.

For a heartbeat, he looks up at her without removing his tongue. Raises an eyebrow, and from the way his cheekbones shift under his skin, she knows he's smirking again. He closes his eyes, kisses her deep and then licks his way up her iliac crest.

"Please, you'll go three or four times before you pass out. I've made you do it how many times before?" He pillows his cheek on the gentle rise of her stomach.  

He asked it like it was a question. Although from the way he’s looking at her, they both know it was a declaration. Maureen rolls her eyes and pushes his head back down to where it belongs. Why argue for one when she can have both? She needs him.

"What about you, babe," she returns, "can you last that long?"

"Who says it's going to take that long?" And from the way he puts his tongue back on her, working her in tandem with his fingers, she thinks he might have a point. But she's never been one to let him—or anyone—win. She tangles her fingers in the short strands of his hair and tugs. She feels his moan in the vibration of his mouth. Then he bites the inside of her thigh and soothes the sting with the flat of his tongue.

"You know one of the best things about getting old," he says, casual like they aren't naked in broad daylight. Like they haven't been reintroducing themselves to the other for what feels like a new lifetime. God, she wants him.

“Knowledge, experience,” she gasps, as he’s gone back to licking her. “Knowing what’s good for you. Who’s good for you,” she says, pointed. “Who’ll make you beg.”

John rolls his eyes. “It’s how much more stamina I have, baby, we could go for days.”

Maureen runs her fingers down his cheek. She loves his face. “Any more than an hour and I’m out,” she says.  

“Oh, c’mon. I know you better than that.”

And like when they were trapped in the Chariot, he tells her a love story. His breath ghosts over her skin. Over her hip bones that he nips in between sentences. On her center when he speaks to tease her in between licking stripes into her most sensitive skin. He tells her snippets of the past, painting memories like photographs into her body. ‘Remember whens’ that play out in three dimensions around them. Maybe she's still helium-high. Maybe it's just John.

When she can’t take it anymore, she hooks her leg around his back and flips them so she can straddle him again. “You act like I haven’t wanted you since 2046,” she says, as she draws her fingers up the center of his chest like she’s parting the red sea. Maureen silences his protests, running the pad of her thumb along his bottom lip. “There were so many times since the crash.” Her voice has a ragged, desperate edge. “When I was holding so desperately to my anger and you’d come stalking into the room like—”

John sits up so he can kiss her neck. Hum his encouragement into the softness of her skin.

“When you threw that eel down on the Jupiter’s deck.” Her voice is a bit hysterical. She feels his protest more than she can hear it.

“You didn’t even look at me before you pulled your medical gloves on,” he says.

“I couldn’t jump you in front of the girls.”

“You weren’t even thinking about me,” he teases, rolling his hips beneath her. “You wanted to figure it out.”

“You act like I’m so much smarter than you—”

“You are.”

“But there were all those times when your quick thinking won out. The way you can problem solve under pressure. Stare down the barrel of a gun on a foreign planet. Crack a joke when all I want to do is strangle you.”

“It’s because you love me,” he says and dips his head back to where he’s sucking an almighty hickey into the soft skin of her neck. Just like she’s wanted to do for eons now.

She gasps, unable to breathe quickly enough to keep up with the pound of her pulse. “There were moments when you caught my eye and it felt like I was in a different place. A different time.” It was in the quiet moments, too, when he was talking to the children. The ones she can’t quite bring herself to say. She told him he needed to step up. Come back, be their dad if he wanted to be her husband, and here he is. Naked skin pressed to hers everywhere except where she wants it most.

Maureen shifts her hips, and reaches between them to guide his cock so she can finally— _finally_ —sink on to him. She takes it slow, as much for her own body to adjust as his. He holds stock still as she breathes around the delicious stretch of him. She runs her hands down his chest, rests her thumbs over his pectorals. “Look at you. Held so still for me, just waiting for permission to move.” Her words are strained. She rolls her hips to ease him deeper. It hasn’t been a decade, but it wasn’t yesterday either.

He skates his hands determinedly over her back, can just barely keep himself from locking her in the crook of his arm and devouring her whole. Every muscle is coiled so tightly he might snap. She can feel the tension. “Maureen, _baby_ , please.”

So she starts so move. He focuses all his energy into kissing her, content to let her set the pace of their hips until she goes boneless above him. Her go kisses lazy and filthy once she’s close. He fucks her through her second orgasm, one strong hand cradling her head in his giant palm. Her whole body goes rigid for just a moment before she shouts—several curse words and then his name. He moves to pull out of her, wants to give her a second to catch her breath, but Maureen hangs on. Her fingernails scrape into his back. She lets him roll them so he’s on top. Her leg is hooked around the back of his knees like she wants to fuse with him. “Keep going, shit, harder please.”

His answering groan is breathless. When she opens her eyes, his whole face is bliss.

“You said you could go for days, babe, show me, just, oh my god, don’t stop.”

It barely takes another heartbeat. Maureen finally gets her mouth on his neck, gets a chance to suck deep bruise over his pulse point just as much to mark her claim as take revenge for him doing the same. They go to pieces together. The friction of their bodies sending white sparks up her back until all the heat pools in her belly again. When she comes for the last time, John finally lets himself go. It’s the aftershock she loves most, the thick pulse of him inside her as he comes.

He collapses beside her, and she flings a leg over him and lays her head on his chest as they catch their breath.

But before she’s ready to move, he shifts beneath her, reaching for something beyond her line of sight. She sits up.

“What are you doing?” She asks.

He looks back at her after he finishes planting their lost antenna upright in the ground. “Marking this spot.” He grins. “In case we want to come back and celebrate.”

Maureen shoves at him. He barely flinches. “Next time we’re gonna have a big fucking bed, goose down duvet, and ten pillows.”

“Right after a hot shower,” he muses.

Maureen’s answering moan is the most obscene one she has made all day. “This place will always be special for bringing us back together, but god, I do not want to die here. Let's get back to camp,” she says, smacking his leg.

John raises to his feet. “Aye, aye, captain.” He begins marching back in the direction she thinks they might need to go.

“Babe?” she calls, “Not that it's not a beautiful sight, but, put some clothes back on, huh?”

He spins around, and plants his hands on his hips. “Well, _baby_ , I’d love to, if I knew where you threw them.” His face is marred adorably with a petulant scowl.

Maureen flings her arm in the general direction. "I brought a change, in the pack."

The smile that lights up his face feels as good as that first breath of fresh air. "Thirty seconds from imminent death by hot tar and you still have the foresight to pack for a rainy day."

Maureen rolls her eyes in response. "I love you too."

**Author's Note:**

> heyoo, i finally made a fandom tumblr and i'm mostly screaming about Toby Stephens-related stuff right now, so if anyone wants to come hang out see me @ [cacophonous-noise](https://cacophonous-noise.tumblr.com/) dot tumblr dot com


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